


So Far In Love

by SerAnneliese



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, New Year 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerAnneliese/pseuds/SerAnneliese
Summary: There's very few things King Noctis takes for granted nowadays, and even they are special to him beyond meaning.





	So Far In Love

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Ignoct New Year's Gift Exchange on Tumblr! mr-smith-i-need-you left their request wildly open so I chose to go the fluffy route (๑꒪▿꒪)* may it make your heart a little bit warmer this chilly season.

Noct dumps himself into his desk chair, phone held to his ear.

“And have you told them that?” he asks into the receiver. He listens for a reply.

“Then that’s exactly what they should do. Tell them that.”

He states this with an air of finality, moving the phone from his head and tapping the end button in exasperation. He sets it face down onto the desk and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Royal troubles?”

He looks up and sweeps his hair from his face. Ignis stands there, two ceramic mugs in-hand. He offers one to the King and he takes it gratefully between both hands.

“More than it should be,” he breaths out. He lifts the cup to drink but stops when he smells its contents. It smells earthy, with the spice of cinnamon. It hits his lips and his eyes close, the smell and taste filling his mouth. Ignis feels his way to pulling out the chair and having a seat, gingerly placing his own drink onto a coaster and leaning on his arms.

“Would you like to talk about it?” his long-time friend asks, adjusting his vizor. Noct catches a flash of his cataracted eye from behind the reflective lense. The guilt of it all has long since passed through him, and life in the rebuilt Citadel has helped ease them both back into a normal life.

He blows air from his mouth and rolls his eyes in mock frustration, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Not really. That’s all I’ve been doing today.”

“Then perhaps I’ll tell you of my day.”

Noct looks across the desk at him and senses none of his characteristic facetiousness.

“Yeah?” he says, mimicking Ignis’ posture. “Go for it. I’ve always wondered what a day in the life of Ignis, the King’s Royal Advisor, was like.”

Ignis gives a short chuckle in response.

“Is that all I am, then?”

“That’s all I want to hear about right now.”

“Very well.”

Noct takes his cup in-hand and leans back in his chair, settling in.

“To begin, I purchased breakfast at the nearby cafe. They’re the only business open at 4AM and the ones I trust the most to cook eggs correctly.”

“You got breakfast without me?” Noct asks, genuinely offended. Ignis is nonplussed.

“His Majesty can hardly be bothered to rouse by 6; imagine his horror were I to invade his bedroom at that wee hour of the morn.”

“Point taken,” he grumbles. “Continue.”

“Before then, I awoke and was dressed to deliver the Kingsglaive’s briefing in Gladiolus’ absence, following the typing of my report, of course.”

“Mm,” Noct grunts. “How is he? The meeting going well?”

“All correspondences with the Niflheim ambassador have run smoothly thus far. He tells me that she possesses quite the informal sense of humor.”

Noct snorts.

“That’s an understatement. Ever since Aranea left behind that mercenary gig, she’s been kicking ass and taking names so much that almost every face in the government is new. They say the original crew just couldn’t take such a hard-ass.”

“I don’t believe they would appreciate such talk of their ambassador, Your Majesty.”

“Lighten up, Specs,” Noct chides, taking a drink. It’s sufficiently cool enough to drink freely. A smile touches the edge of Ignis’ mouth, fine lines crinkling with familiarity.

“Your words speak of annoyance, and yet I can hear the smile across your lips.”

“How can you hear an expression?” Noct asks. Ignis inclines his head in a quick motion.

“Call it intuition, I suppose. Or perhaps the change in the falsetto of your voice indicates an expression other than a neutral one. Your King’s composure isn’t so easily composed against those who listen closely enough.”

“Alright, alright, enough about me. Tell me more about your day.”

Ignis mimics Noctis’ surrendering gesture-- one hand held up above the desk-- in acceptance. Noct stares in amazement at their synchronicity despite Ignis’ lack of vision. He lowers his hand.

“Your Majesty certainly wouldn’t like to know every detail of my day.”

“True. His Majesty may not, but who knows for sure? Tell me just in case.”

“Shall I start with my hair-combing procedure or the mechanics of auto-correct when using a text-to-speech program for composing memos?”

Noct hums, unsure.

“Uhh, let’s skip ahead to where you actually get to work. You know. The fun stuff.”

“Very well. My filling in for Gladiolus went very smoothly. I met with the council members, went for a morning walk in the gardens with Prompto, then shortly after, met him again for training.”

“How is his polearm training going?”

“He excels at the gymnastic aspects such as vaulting but has much room for improvement in the technical aspects of the weapons.”

“So, translating from Iggy-speak, that means you keep knocking him on his ass.”

“In my words, it means he still has much to learn. I thought to keep poor Prompto’s integrity in front of his King by forgoing mention of how often he’s felled by a man with compromised vision.”

Noct breathes in through his teeth as if he’s been hurt.

“No need to remind him of that part. I think it’d hurt his feelings.”

“Imagine how I feel.”

Noct blows a raspberry.

“Don’t be so dark. You made peace with your sight years ago.” He gestures despite it with his mug. “No other blind person could make a cup of coffee this good if they still let it hold them back.”

Ignis’ smile is lopsided and toothy.

“Everything is dark, Noct.”

“Specs.”

The Advisor sets his cup down and undoes the latch on one glove, setting it aside. White teeth showing, he slides his left hand across the glossy top of the desk, palm upturned. Noct scoffs and sets his own cup down on a coaster. The leather chair creaks when he leans forward in it and lays his hand into Ignis’. His fingers close softly around Noct’s and his thumb rubs his knuckles. It moves in circles atop his skin, gliding past the first bump to caress the soft base of each finger, dusted with hair. It stops when it reaches the gold band enclosing his fourth finger, pad running along the smoothness of it. Ignis’ smile becomes a closed-lip one full of pride. This time Noct smiles with his teeth, incredulous laugh escaping his chest.

“You dork,” he says, other hand reaching them and lying atop the pile. His finger finds the matching circlet on Ignis’ left hand and he can’t help feeling a familiar flutter in his belly.

“I was relieved to find it still there,” Ignis explains with a comforting pat. “That my beloved Noctis truly was my husband and that fact was not merely a machincation.”

Noct eyes him suspiciously. “If we weren’t married, and hadn’t been for the past three years, I’d be severely disappointed.”

“In yourself or me, Majesty?”

“Me first, you second. Prompto third for not engineering some ritual to marry us with his license, and Gladio last for letting it go on that long when we already lived like we were together. It would’ve been too painful for him to see us continue without sealing the deal.”

“ _ Sealing the feeling _ ,” Ignis quotes back in confirmation. He lifts their hands and kisses the top of Noct’s, depositing them back after a moment. Noct watches the display with gushing admiration.

“You always make me feel better,” he says quietly. He squeezes his Advisor’s hands once and Ignis squeezes back, fingers encircling his wrist.

“I’m always available for you. For whatever you’d like, my love.”

Noct feels his face burn and the butterflies return to his gut. Ignis kisses his hand once more and hums against it, lips still resting atop the skin.

“Your pulse has gone up. What did I say?”

Noct retracts his hand and playfully smacks Ignis’ with an aback.

“You do not have permission to say things like that. There’s still work to be done, you know.”

Ignis chuckles heartily and picks up his cup.

“Wherever did you get that idea from? We do all the work for you around here.”

“You can start by bringing back executions. With a demonstration. I’ll have Prompto lead-- I bet he’d volunteer without me asking.”

Noct would sound convincing to anyone listening. Anyone but Ignis, that is. Ignis stands and raps his knuckles lightly against the wood before sliding his coat across his shoulders, fastening the buttons and smoothing down the dark material of the front. He bows at the waist.

“As Your Majesty desires.”

Noct shakes his head and watches as Ignis leaves, the lock to the study closing behind him quietly. He pushes his empty cup out of the way and reaches for a pen and paper, beginning to read over its contents. Where would he be without his Ignis, he struggles to think.


End file.
